Closure
by transparentchaos
Summary: Memories fade with time. Relics become lost. Judai thinks some should stay forgotten, even if it means forever.


Hi again! It's been about two years since I've posted anything and I've been working steadily on releasing something, but, well, writing isn't exactly easy. So, to get my creativity flowing again, I wrote this and felt satisfied, even though this is sort of a random one-shot. Anyways, please enjoy!

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From where he stood, it seemed that the clouds cast a shadow and the harsh, cold rain created a sea of black umbrellas that spread evenly across the small valley. Judai hated these types of events. In his line of work, he attended them all too frequently, especially in the past five years or so. But he had to go. For some reason, he was compelled to attend, no matter how little he knew of them. Perhaps it was out of respect. Perhaps it was out of guilt. Of which, he wasn't sure. But he did know one thing: they would have done the same, right?

He didn't know most of the people there, he observed while standing alone under the willow tree. He was clad in an expensive black suit that felt more suffocating than usual as he evaluated the guests. Their black clothes struck him like the reaper's scythe, as if they tried to harvest his soul from his body. He had become used to such formal dress, but couldn't shake nervousness, fearing that his fundamental personality would make him irreverent. So he decided it best that he remained isolated as the eulogy concluded, and the first of the earth was scattered atop the casket. They would wonder who he was, and ask him how he knew of the deceased. He didn't want to explain. It was much too much of a hassle to be worth it. He would pay his respects when they left.

He watched the widow as she wept, her tired old features shedding tears of sadness and joy. He watched as she celebrated his life and his triumphs. He watched as she remembered their moments of happiness and frustration. He watched as reality shook her, telling her that he was no longer there, no longer within the realm of the living. All that had happened in a moment, a moment that felt like an eternity to him. Those around her tried to comfort her, her grandchildren and children offering their support. All he could do was watch. Revealing himself was too much of a hassle.

They were long gone by the time Judai mustered the courage to approach. The smell of the freshly turned earth reached his nose as he laid the bouquet of snow-white lilies on the soil, gently kneeling beside them. He didn't know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He had realized that they would become forgotten with time, fossils lost to an ancient era as the generations grew farther apart. They would be forgotten, just like him, a mere grain amongst the sands of time. The least he could do was preserve their memory.

"Who're you?" a voice asked.

Judai turned quickly, years of instinct putting him on guard. He hadn't heard anyone approach, nor had he sensed a living aura. His brown eyes saw her, holding the umbrella with both hands as her heels sunk into the wet grass like quicksand. It had been years, but he could still recognize her anywhere. Her hair had gone wiry and grey. The roaring flame behind her eyes was barely an ember now. He could only chuckle, standing up to stretch his numbed legs. She flinched, watching him back with a glassy gaze.

"I'm an old acquaintance, I suppose," Judai replied calmly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said the first thing that came to mind. It wasn't wrong. Some former friends of his had always been fascinated with historical artifacts, especially ones lost to time. By that time, he was probably classified as such too, buried in history, ready to be forgotten. His empty headstone wasn't that far away after all, covered in moss and dirt. "I came to pay respects to a colleague of mine."

"Were you a student of his?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse and wavering, likely from her mourning. He shook his head, observing the area for anyone who could have been watching. "Then how were you a colleague? You look too young to be anything else."

"We only worked together for a short time," Judai explained. He wondered for a moment what could have been classified as short. How long had it been since they'd interacted? Years were simply numbers put after months and days. He tried to remember, but it only made his head hurt. He understood that he was a relic, and the numbers to him meant different things to others.

"You don't look that old," she challenged suspiciously. He laughed inside. She had taken a part of his personality. She was like a capsule to the past, a reminder of an ancient time more familiar to him.

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Are you the grim reaper? You're certainly dressed like one."

"I wish."

"Then who are you?"

He laughed again, producing a piece of paper from his pocket. For a few moments, he scribbled something onto it before he gave himself a nod of satisfaction and some sort of congratulations. He approached her slowly and took one of her hands. In the back of his mind, Yubel was calling him an idiot, berating him and shouting for him to stop. She said that he was going to be digging up the past, but he didn't care. Slowly and gently, he unfurled her cold, tired fingers and placed the piece of paper in her palm, closing and crumpling it within her grasp. He offered her a smile as he let go, slowly backing away.

They both heard car doors opening and a call for her to return. Judai chuckled, his youthful features brightening as he stood behind her. She signaled to them that she was talking to someone, and turned back to Judai. As she started to ask him about the paper, a gust of wind hit her like a brick wall, forcing her to close her eyes as she braced herself to remain standing. Her eyes widened when she realized that he was gone, footprints in the grass remaining as his only proof of existence. In his stead was an ancient version of the duel disk accented in red, a true relic wrapped in a plastic seal. How long had it been since she'd seen one like that?

When she picked it up, it felt heavy and clunky, scratched and chipped from years of use or neglect. Quickly, she tucked it under her arm as she opened her palm delicately, as if to protect the paper she was entrusted. The once white paper was now yellow. It was a photograph. 'How ancient,' she thought to herself. It was a photo of familiar faces, several dozens of years younger. It seemed as if they were still at the height of their youth as they posed on the golden beach with the crystalline ocean as a backdrop. She recognized each and every person in the photo except for one, who seemed to have been forced into it by the scruff of his shirt.

She remembered that picture. She remembered it only faintly, blurred by the sheer length of time. There was something there, something she was forgetting. For several moments, she thought as hard as she could back to that time. It struck her slowly, but heavily as she read the messily written note at the bottom.

 _This duel disk is proof of my spirit. I'm a relic of the past, buried deep in the ruins we call memories. I have so much I want to tell you all, that I want to say, but I can't. You all grew into your lives while I wandered. Maybe, in the next life, we'll meet again, but for now, Sayonara._

 _The Idiot._

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Not really related to GX, but this is how I'd imagine a reunion.

-Transparentchaos


End file.
